Bulletproof
by sk8tergirl2
Summary: "Every day I get a little bit closer to the resolution that I am not yet bulletproof. Oh the battle within rages on and on, the neighborhood seems so small. The church on the corner has good steps for waiting; I should go in but I'm tired of praying."


The apartment was dark, the only light being the moonlight spilling in through the glass doors that led to the was a nice place, plenty of square footage, a state-of-the-art kitchen, two grandiose bedrooms and a luxurious bathroom. The living room was impressive with the soft white carpet, large couch and a giant plasma screen TV set up against the far wall. It was about 3 in the morning when the phone began to ring, echoing throughout the large empty space.

Mr. Risotto groaned considering the option of ignoring the annoyance, but decided against it figuring no one would call so late if it wasn't an emergency. He got out of his comfy king sized and slipped on his silk, black robe and slippers before making his way towards the kitchen where the phone rang. Due to the late hour and the shining full moon, the shadows that were cast into the apartment were long and dark, making the place seem much more eery than ever. The broad-shouldered, middle-aged man didn't seem bothered by the fact as he went on his way without a second thought. Perhaps if he had hesitated or had been more awake, he might have been saved.

"Hello?" His gruff voice sounded through the silence that was settled all around him. The line was quiet save the small sounds of someone's breath, letting him know that there was someone else on the line.

"Who is this? I can hear you breathing over there." The man had always been short-tempered and impatient, a couple of his fatal flaws, but even he could detect something odd with the line. It took a moment of thought, but then he realized what it was. His voice had a slight echo through the line. His eyes widened and he turned around so fast, that he knocked the phone right off the counter. It clattered on the ground as he found himself staring straight into the barrel of a gun. A figure stood just behind it, one hand holding the weapon while the other held a cell phone up to their ear. Mr. Risotto could make out long, luscious locks spilling over a petite feminine frame.

Then he never saw anything ever again.

The figure watched the body fall limp to the ground like a rag-doll before lowering their gun. They stepped forward and checked for a pulse with their glove-clad hand then walked away satisfied. They left the apartment quietly and made their way toward the lobby where another body lied dead on the floor by the door. She chucked the cell phone down onto their unmoving torso then walked out the front door as if nothing had happened.

Quinn Fabray had just finished typing up her latest report when a medium sized Sorbenots cup of coffee found it's way onto her desk accompanied by a raven-haired Latina who perched herself on the corner of the aforementioned work table.

"You know, word on the street is, caffeine and stress is a lethal combination." Santana Lopez, Quinn's partner and one of her oldest friends, commented teasingly.

"On the contrary, they're more interdependent than anything." She took a drink before turning her attention back on her computer screen.

"You realize that would mean that coffee can't be without stress as well right?" The shorter of the two pointed out.

"Of course, I live a stressful life and need coffee to live, ergo the stress comes with the coffee. It works both ways." She smiled cheekily up at the Latina who rolled her eyes at the girl's logic.

"How are we friends again?"

"Because I was a stubborn little kid who wouldn't let you get away with stealing my snack before nap time."

"Ah yes, Kindergarten. Now those were the days." The raven-haired officer said wistfully.

"Yes, the only year that it was acceptable for you to fall asleep in class." It was now the blond-haired partner's turn to roll her eyes.

"You know it." Santana played along before their playful conversation was interrupted.

"Lopez, I don't remember seeing your report on my desk, perhaps I've over looked it?" The two turned to see the Chief standing behind the Latina with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. She was in her late 30's with wavy, long, dirty blonde hair that reached her shoulders, and stormy gray eyes that have been said to strike fear in the heart of the most hardened criminal; she was someone not to be messed with.

"Er..." Santana said trying and failing to think on her toes.

"Get to work." She commanded before turning her attention on the blonde. "Fabray, I'd like to see you in my office; I have another assignment for you."

"Yes Chief Rivers." Quinn stood from her desk and followed her superior, but not without shooting a smirk to her scolded friend who just huffed silently with a small glare.

Sandra Rivers, The Chief of Police, walked behind her desk silently dropping a newspaper on it facing Quinn who had shut the door and took the seat across from her. Quinn looked up at the Chief almost hesitantly as she took the paper and scanned the front page. There was a bold headline announcing the murder of yet another wealthy business owner complete with the picture of a rather large middle-aged man who had a permanent scowl pasted on his face and an article that detailed all the information the reporter could gather.

"That's the third one this week." Quinn commented looking back up to her boss incredulously.

"Exactly, and in the same fashion as the prior two victims. In their homes with no sign of forced entry, and no clues or evidence that could lead us to the perpetrator. Jacob Risotto was alone in his rather expensive apartment, and was killed in the middle of the night along with a security guard from the lobby. However, the only things out of place are Risotto's home phone and the guard's cell phone, both of which seemed to have been tossed aside carelessly."

"Why the phones?"

"No clue, I'm not even sure if they're relevant to the case; either way, I want you to handle this one. You've shown excellent work as of late with each case wrapping up even smoother than the last, and I expect this one to be handled just as well." Rivers pulled out a couple files and slid them over to the young officer, each had been marked with various names, business, and organizations.

"This is all the information we can provide, they're the reports concerning the first two victims, their business and possible suspects." Quinn fingered through them before looking up.

"You think it was a hired gun?"

"We're not sure, but we need to be open to any possibilities." Quinn nodded showing that she understood. "You're dismissed." The young woman stood and left the office not seeing the Chief's eyes following her through the window as she sat back down at her desk.

"Be careful Quinn. You're not as bullet-proof as you seem to think." She said lowly so that no one heard her.

"Ah, free at last!" Santana exclaimed dramatically as the duo stepped out into the chilly night air. "My fingers were cramping and giving me hell. I can't believe that bitch Rivers put me on filing." She grumbled.

"You're the one who decided to goof off and rope the entire office into your nonsense." Quinn pointed out as they made their way to her car.

"I was just trying to have a little fun. This job's way too stressful to be serious all the time."

"It's kind of hard to think that when it's something you do everyday."

"Well that just shows my commitment to creating a better working environment for me and my fellow employees."

"...you put that on your resume didn't you?"

"..."

Quinn shook her head hiding the smile that threatened to appear on her face before she got into the driver's side of her cherry red 2015 Hyundai Santa Fe Sport. It had been a gift from her mother for her 21st birthday as an attempt to make up for years of negligence and a terrible father. Santana often jokingly referred to it as a bribe for her affections, though Quinn never found the humor in it.

"So I heard from Lady Hummel the other day. He said that there's some big fashion event coming up and he wants us to come watch." Santana informed her.

"Really?" Quinn turned to look at her partner to see if she was really serious. "We haven't heard from him in about a year, why would he call out of the blue like that?" The Latina gave Quinn a sad look.

"It's that time of year." She said softly knowing how much it hurt Quinn to be reminded. The taller of the two turned solemn as she lowered her head. "Oh."

It was nearing December 18th. A significant day that provoked phone calls and messages from all the former glee clubbers. It was her birthday. Last year they had all chosen to fly back home and be together for it, but it only depressed them even more when the absence of a certain diva was just too prominent.

Rachel Barbra Berry had been McKinley High's glee club star. With her voice as lead, they won almost every competition they came across. Although the club often admitted they couldn't do anything without her, they only ever put up with her because of her voice. She had gone missing during their junior year and to this date there was still no word of her. The school has her pegged as dead, but there are still a few who refuse to believe that.

It wasn't until she was gone that the club realized she hadn't had a single friend and they were ashamed of themselves when they had initially rolled their eyes at the news of a missing diva. They had collectively figured she had simply ran away from home to get attention and would return shortly, but then the police found evidence that she was abducted on the school grounds.

It often angered Quinn. The fact that she had been surrounded by a sea of teenagers and not one of them bothered to notice the petite girl get kidnapped. She felt the burden of the brunettes absence the most. She had been the girls number one tormentor for 5 years. Since sixth grade she had made the younger girl's life a living hell, pegging her as the schools biggest loser, initiating the slushie showers that she received, constant bullying with terrible names such as treasure-trail and man-hands.

The truth was, the blonde had a crush on the younger girl but couldn't show it. She had been brought up in a religious and strict home where homosexuality was severely frowned upon, so when she started feeling something for the annoying diva, she got scared. She was scared that she would one day burn in the fiery pits of hell for her feelings, so she tried to ignore them, thinking that if she refused to acknowledge them, then it wouldn't count, but when she found it was hard to do so, she resorted to torturing the poor girl; lashing out partially to prevent any suspicion but mostly because she blamed the brunette for turning her into an abomination.

Then Quinn had been disowned by her parents when she got pregnant, and later gave the baby to Rachel's mother and realized that her logic and thoughts were all out of line. But before she could start the long, rocky road of reconciliation, Rachel had disappeared.

"She will be turning 21 right?" Santana asked knowing her friend was one of the few that refused to believe she was dead.

"I don't know." There was debate among the club on Rachel's exact age. No one had known her well enough to know whether she was the same age as the majority of them or a year younger. They couldn't even ask Rachel's parents because they hadn't been around at the time.

Leroy and Hiram Berry had been on a business trip when Rachel was reported missing and it was later uncovered that the star the club often ignored had been neglected by her parents as well. The couple would leave for months at a time, there was even a period when they had left Rachel home alone for a year and half, leaving the end of their 8th grade year and not returning until the middle of their sophomore year. The news had greatly added onto their guilt.


End file.
